


Dishonored: Specter

by SerkonanBloodLilly



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Low Chaos (Dishonored)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 22:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13867182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerkonanBloodLilly/pseuds/SerkonanBloodLilly
Summary: A port from my Tumblr to AO3, find me at: Mcbacondaddy. A rewrite of Dishonored with my Oc Serana in it.Wars are fought with steel, and the swirling echos of the void. With gunpowder, bolts and elixirs, guile, skill, and secrecy.And sometimes, they are fought with the help of friends thought long dead.





	1. Unforseen reunions

She dose not know the man shackled in the square below; on his knees, staring defiantly at the Overseer before him. He wears the same attier as the man that glares down upon him through the gold of his mask. How they do brandish them as weapons, how ever usless they are once removed.

“-but I miss your wife!” The bound Overseer retorts, sneering at the other. Near the entrance to Holger’s square, a shadow moves, nether seen nor heard by any other than her. In those shadows, she can hear the whispers of the void. How long had it been since she heard those whispers?

A dull thump echos through dead air as the Overseer’s body hits the ground. His assailant now conversing with the man he’d been threatening. He is not dead, his heart beat low in her ears as she inches across the rooftops. Mechanisms click, and the Overseer stands, wrubbing at his wrists with an exasperated look. He’s tired, reeking of sweat and mildew. Yet he holds himself high as he leaves, giving curt thanks to the man who freed him. The man who reeks of the void. The longer she stares, the more the hooded figure below begins to remind her of someone she knew. She inches closer, landing soundlessly against the cobblestones, obscured by Dunwalls’ grey darkness. That posture… It couldn’t be?

The cloaked figure is suddenly directly in front of her, the smell of raw void flooding her senses. She jumps away, a silver blur slicing the air inches from where she once stood. Her own sword is drawn, held by her side as she ducks away. She has to be sure, she will not attack until she’s sure. Attack after attack from her assailant is blocked or dodged, the clashing of metal ringing in the air. Until finally, she’s sure. Swords lock together, and she throws herself against her attacker; who stumbles back in surprise as she kicks the blade from his hand. It clatters to the ground a few feet away, forgotten as the cloaked male now stares at her, though ready to attack if need be. She still holds her sword -loosley now- as a her off-hand rises to her hood, throwing back the black fabric to reveal blood red hair and eyes of ice. The man freezes, she hears the hitch in his breath. Fabric rustles, a hood is thrown back and a mask pulled away.

“Serana?” She smiles behind her bandanna, pulling the cloth down to her throat. The relief is clear in his eyes as he steps forward, hand reaching for her, as if he dosen’t trust that she’s truly there.

“Hello Corvo, it’s been awhile” She sheaths her sword, crouching down to pick up the blade she’d kicked from his hand. Corvo’s awe melts to anger as she holds his blade out to him, yet he dose not snatch it from her like she’s made of fire.

“Where the fuck have you been?” His Serkonan accent bleeds into his words, it’s as much a question as it is an accusation.

“They- they told me you were dead, Serana…” His hands tremble as he grasps her forearm. Corvo looks a broken man, but for all he’d been through in the past six months, he should have looked worse. Gently, she pulls her wrist free. He dose not put up a fight.

“Where haven’t I been, Corvo?” She sighs, gesturing to thin air.

“I’d expected as much, but I assure you I am very much alive. It’s… Good to see you, Corvo” He steps closer to her, void energy flooding her senses as he grasps her shoulder. Her vision blurs, the smell of the void intensifies, and then the world comes to a sharp halt as Corvo releases her. She’s about to ask why he’d blinked them onto the rooftops when a pair of Overseers stroll into veiw.

“Marked by the outsider” She breaths, taking Corvo’s hand, inspecting the smoldering glow of the brand through his glove. He removes it for her, allowing her to study it fully.

“Yes. It alerted me to you earlier, are you-”

“Able to smell it? Yes, and taste it, as well as physically feel it this close. It… Took to you well, Corvo” He winces when she presses around the seared skin, watching the redness receed wherever her cool fingertips touch.

“It won’t- won’t affect you much, will it?”

“It shouldn’t, not for long anyway. My body will sync with it eventually” The mark feels much better when Serana releases his hand, remarkably so.

“Anything else I should know?” He stares at her, and she chuckles. That’s a look she knows well.

“You were sent out tonight for reason. I don’t know by who, and have a vague idea as to why, but I fully intend to help if I’m able” Concern floods Corvo’s features.

“Serana, you don’t-”

“But I will, Corvo. I don’t know what happened while I was away, but I know you. I know you wouldn’t…” Serana breaks eye contact, sighing softy as she composes herself.

“I know you’d never harm Jess” His eyes are a sea of pain. She rests her hands on his shoulders, voice soft as she continues.

“This too is my fight, Corvo. For Jess, for Emily, for you. I will not stand on the sidelines and watch one man fight a war, supernatural powers or not. I will fight with you, to the end of it all” He smiles at her, it’s small and broken, but the pained look in his eyes is replaced with hope. Corvo mutters a ‘thank you’, to which she smiles back.

“We don’t have a lot of time, can I explain on the way?” Crouching down next to him, Serana pulls her bandanna back over her nose with a nod. His mask stares her down breifly before they begin sprinting across the rooftops.

“I was sprung from Coldridge by a group called the Loyalist. They want to help me find Emily”

“Do they have any leads?” Corvo blinks across a gap in the rooftops, Serana materializing next to him seconds after.

“Not yet. I was sent out tonight to find one, have you found any?”

“I have a letter Burrows sent me while I was away, but it’s not a lead. What about these Loyalists?”

“An admiral, an aristocrat, and an Overseer. They’ve made base in a quarantined part of the city. Building is owned by the admiral. Handful of servants and a scientist work there for now, it’s where we’ll be staying” Serana raises an eyebrow, stopping beside him.

“'We’ll be staying?’” She can practically hear his smirk.

“You’re a part of this now. Do you mind if I read that letter?”

“Not at all. I have some explaining to do myself, but we don’t have the time right now” Corvo nods, stopping just in front of the large marble building. The Abbey of the Everyman.

“Why’s the city watch here?” She whispers, gazing at Corvo’s mask.

“Curnow is in there, I’ve been asked to rescue him”

“Geoff Curnow?” A nod. Serana swears quietly, clenching her fist.

“Debrief me, I’ve found a way in” So Corvo dose. Giving as much detail as he can with the time he has. Ten minutes later, they are both crouched in the meeting room. The posion that was meant for one man now spilt across the marble floor. Serana had taken the task of Curnow’s saftey, thus Corvo could focus on his objective. Campbell and Curnow entered the room shortly after, chatting idly as the walked. Serana truly despised Campbell, more so now than ever. The twisted part of her wished Corvo would’ve just stabbed him instead of choking him out, but the fate he’d endure by Corvo’s hands was justice enough. Gently, she sets Curnow inside the dumpster. That’s one thing accomplished. She scales her way back up the rooftops, footsteps light as she clears a path for Corvo.

He’d taken a little longer than she thought he would, but he did not smell of blood. Corvo did, however, buzz with the energy of runes and bonecharms. She’d felt them before she saw him, turning slightly to smirk at him from under her hood.

“Guessing it went well?” He produces a small black book from his coat pocket, holding it out to her. Serana flicks through the first few pages.

“Wow” She breaths, handing Corvo the black book. He tucks it back into his pocket with a nod.

“I just hope Campbell knew where Emily was being held”

“Judging from what little I read, he must have” Corvo hums, leaning against the stone wall. He’s trying not to be too optimistic, but she sees the way his eyes glint in to moonlight. They wait for Samuel in relative silence, and when the boatman dose show up, he clearly hesitates to dock when he sees her.

“And who might this be, Corvo?” The boatman eyes her warily. She wears the sleek leather and cloth armor of the late Empress, she could be an elite guard for all he knew. A smart man is a weary one.

“A friend, Samuel. She’ll help us” Corvo is in no mood to argue, offering her a hand after he’d stepped into the boat.

“That may be so, but I don’t think Havelock will take too kindly to another knife-wielding shadow crawler- uhm… No offence meant to the lady, of course”

“None taken” Serana shrugs, taking Corvo’s offered hand as she steps into the boat.

“I’m sure Havelock will understand” Samuel sighs as the boat moater whirs to life.

“If you say so Corvo”

~

“And who in the void is she?!”

Serana had expected this to go badly, but this, this was almost comical. Corvo had told her what to expect on the boat ride to the Hound Pits. She wasn’t all that surprised to currently have the barrel of the admiral’s gun in her face. Or the youngest Pendleton, who she remembered seeing once or twice in years previous, red as a tomato in the corner. Everyone else just watched in silent horror, minus Corvo, who stood beside her with a tired glare. Looking as unamused as she could, Serana pushes the gun away from her face.

“Serana Mereta. Assassin from Empress Jessamine’s circle. A circle that has been disbanded by our beloved lord regent” The tension in the air grows as Havelock rakes his eyes over her, then her armor, finally looking to Corvo.

“You trust her?” Corvo steps closer to her. It’s a dare, and Havelock knows it. He wouldn’t bring her here if he didn’t.

“With my life” It’s done reluctantly, but eventually the gun is put away. Slowly, people trickle out of the pub as Corvo and the Loyalists begin to talk business. Serana leans against the bartop. Both her and Corvo are tired, the faster this is figured out the better.

“Fine, she stays. But we don’t really have the room for her, and with Martin on the way we have even less” Corvo had threatened Havelock in order to make things work out, he’d do it as many times as he had to.

“Serana will stay in my room, we disscussed it on our way here” He leaves no room for argument, rising from his seat. Serana follows him up the stairs to the attic, where it turns out one of the maids had already made a bed for her. Corvo, looking tired as ever, rids himself of his heavy jacket before collapsing onto his bed. Serana giggles, sounding just as tired as he looked. How long had it been since she slept on an actual mattress, and not a rooftop? She unclasps her armor, setting it neatly on a chair as she removes each piece. Something soft hits her in the back of the head. She turns slightly, grabbing the shirt Corvo threw at her from the floor.

“Any particular reason or just felt like it?”

“Felt like it” He yawns, Serkonan accent heavy. She turns away from him as she pulls her longsleeved shirt over her head, replacing it with the one he threw at her. It’s much too large, hanging off her left shoulder as she slips under the covers of her bed. Corvo is already fast asleep, snoring softly.

“Goodnight Corvo” She whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

Somewhere outside, a raven caws at the moon. This, is just the beginning.


	2. She of many names, known only as one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter: slight gore, blood, body mutilation, mentions of torture, very slight nsfw.

She knows exactly where she is before she hears his voice, suspended in the air far above many floating platforms. A leviathan crys, swimming through the air beside her; a hulking mass of raw power.

“Serana. How good it is to see you again…” The Outsider appears before her, hovering but a few feet away. She dose not respond, lips drawn into a thin line as his voice echos around her.

“So you’ve found Corvo. You’ve seen my gift. And now you’re here, is it what you expected to find?” He tilts his head, leaning towards her. If it’s a game you wish for, Outsider, it’s a game you’ll have.

“Is it ever?” Her voice too, echos through the void. Her stare is bored as she paces on thin air. She moves through the void effortlessly, as if she were him. The Outsider grins at her, watching as she moves; an outstreched hand brushing over the skin of a passing leviathan.

“Everything is a mystery. There is always some part of the puzzle we lack, that we spend so long searching for. Tell me, abbandonato uno, is it ever what we expected?” There’s an appreciation in his dark eyes that Serana doesn’t miss. It truly had been a while since she’d last spoke with the void. The air is still when she stops her pacing, turning to look at him. He won’t anwser her directly, he never has.

“All things fall into place eventually. I bid you well, tu che esistevi prima di me”

Grey-blue eyes snap open, staring at the wooden ceiling above. The room is dimly lit, rays of sunlight cutting through the dusty attic air. A snort draws her attention to the sleeping form of Corvo, blanket barley clinging to his sprawled body. She sighs, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, footsteps silent on the floorboards. He deserves the rest. The sun has barley risen, the ocean a mass of liquid gold in the early-morning haze. Corvo had mentioned a bathroom last night, she remembers, picking up her neatly folded armor from the chair she’d left it on. Serana chuckles to herself, rounding the corner on the second floor. She must look rather interesting in Corvo’s oversized shirt, sword strapped loosley to her back. There’s a sudden yelp to her right, a blur of human and cloth.

“Oh! I’m sorry! You scared me…” A woman in a tweed coat clutches her hand to her chest, the startled look in her eyes dies out when they settle on Serana’s body.

“Is… Is that a…” Serana nods, ruffling her fiery hair. The woman seems bewitched with her, or mostly her exposed shoulder; where the black leather of her sword strap bites into her skin. She swallows - muttering something about manners under her breath - before holding her hand out to her. Serana takes it, giving it a short but firm shake.

“I’m Cecilia. You’re the woman Corvo brought back, aren’t you?” Serana nods again, chuckling.

“I am indeed her. Would you by chance know where the bathroom is?” Cecilia smiles, pointing to a door behind her.

“Right there. Did you… Want some hot water? I think there’s a kettle on downstairs”

“That would be lovely”

Serana sighs, setting her armor down on the sink. Cecilia, bless her, had brought her a towl with the kettle. Delicately, Corvo’s shirt is peeled from her skin, the warm water of the tub enveloping her body. Oh, how long it has been since she’d had this kind luxury. Bathing briefly in cold rivers filled with hagfish had become her normal since Jessamine died. Paired with sleeping on rooftops or in the occasional abandoned buliding, surviving off what food she could scavenge. She’d dealt with worse, yes, but this was certainly up there. She’s rinsing out her hair when a crash echos from the hall way.

“WALLACE! I TOLD YOU-” Ah, she recognizes that voice. Little Treavor Pendleton, all grown up. He’d been younger the last time she’d seen him, chasing after Waverly Boyel at some court event. How things do change. Serana tightens the last clasp on her torso, swinging the strap of her sword sheath over her shoulder.

Despite the early disturbance, the pub is rather quite.

“Good morning love. Up rather early, aren’t you?” Serana seats herself on one of the bar stools, smiling at the woman behind the bar.

“For what I do, this is considered late” The woman chuckles, stoping her current chore to look at her.

“Serana, right? I’m Lydia. Anything I can get you?” Serana gives her a look, and she laughs. It wasn’t intentional, it’d just been so long since someone had offered her food or drink. Lydia asks Serana if she’d prefer anything, and when she dosen’t respond, she disappears into the kitchens without another word. Someone sits next to her, smelling of wine and expensive cologne. She didn’t know aristocrats got up this early. He’s not really looking at her, fidgeting with his sleeve, waiting for her to start a conversation. It’s a mistake on his part. They sit in silence until Lydia pops out of the kitchen, setting a mug of something on the bartop infront of Serana. She winks at her before returning to the kitchen. It smells distinctively like black tea, she notes, bringing the mug into her hands; nearly melting at the taste as she takes a small sip. Grey-blue eyes flick to the aristocrat beside her, all too amused at how hard he’s trying to get her attention. She takes another sip of her tea.

“Do you always have your sword on you?” A hum is his answer, Serana’s nails tapping against her mug.

“Good morning to you too, Treavor” He gose a little red in the cheeks, jaw slack.

“You know my name?”

“Clearly. I’ve seen you at court events in the past” Treavor clues in rather quickly, suddenly very interested in the sliver pattern embroided into the triangular fold of her armor. She raises an eyebrow, setting her empty mug on the bartop.

“But to answer your question, yes. It typically never leaves my person” The kitchen door opens once more. This time, Lydia sets a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, garnished with apple and pear slices.

“Lydia you didn’t have-” The woman shushes her, picking up her empty mug.

“You’ve probably been eating void knows what for the past six months, it’s the least I can do. Would you like more tea?” That part was true, tinned pratchett eels had nothing on what Lydia had made for her. Serana politely declines her offer, thanking her profusely. She simply grins, telling her to eat before it grows cold, picking up the broom she held earlier.

Treavor excuses himself, leaving Serana to eat in peace. Oatmeal had never tasted this good before, mixed with the crunch of the apple and pear slices, it was like something meant for a king. Sleeping on a matress, a warm bath, actual tea, food that wasn’t canned or seared rat? She briefly wonders if she’s died and gone to heaven. Serana, however, knows that’s impossible. Her skin bristles at the scent of the void, Corvo’s footsteps light as he comes into her peripheral vision. Lydia bids him good morning, moving to sweep another part of the pub.

“Good morning Corvo, sleep well?” He yawns, streaching his arms over his head.

“No, but it was better than nights previous” He looks like he’s going to ask her something, staring long and hard at nothing in particular. Ultimately, he decides against it, disappearing into the kitchen; only to return with an apple.

“When did you get up?” She shrugs, loosening the ribbon from her damp hair.

“Four thirty-ish, maybe. Managed to bathe, met a few of the people here… Oh, and, Lydia made me breakfast” Corvo smirks, bitting into his apple.

“She’ll do that. Callista will too if you’re not careful” He mutters between mouthfuls of apple.

“Callista?”

“Curnow’s nephew. Ran into her before I came downstairs, wanted me to tell you she’s very thankful and in your debt” Serana rolls her eyes in mock annoyance.

“You could’ve just told her you did it” He shrugs, tossing the apple core into a bucket by the door.

“But I didn’t, you did”

“Fair enough” She sighs, rising from her seat.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Campbell?” Corvo gose quite, glancing cautiously over to Lydia; who moved to sweep the far side of the pub. His voice is low in her ear as he tells her what he’d done. Serana has to surpress the evil laughter that rises in her chest, giggling quietly instead. Oh Cambell had definitely deserved that.

“You branded him as a heretic?” She whispers between giggles. Sometimes, her sadistic side gets the worst of her. This is one of those times. Corvo nods, straightening his coat-sleeves.

“It was… Strangely therapeutic. Is this what it was like for you?”

“My job was more subterfuge, infiltration, and blackmail. But it’s always gratifying when the guilty man pays his dues, one way or another” Another nod, followed by a half-smile.

“I have to go get some things from Pierro, care to join me?”

Serana follows Corvo out of the pub to another building. Inside, a small man is fiddling with something that looks particularly volatile. He turns when he sees Corvo, asking if he needs anything as he peers over his glasses at her.

“Sleepdarts, Pierro. Serana do you-” She turns her left wrist to him, the steel of the wristbow barely visable against black leather.

“Double the original amount, if you have enough” Pierro nods, disappearing upstairs for a moment before returning with a bundle of darts and wrist bolts, filled with a strange green serum. Corvo hands him a pouch of coins, which the scientist ultimately pushes back into his hands.

“Half of that is all I need, wrist bolts for the lady are free of charge” Corvo looks a little confused, but halves the coin. Peirro takes it, sparing one last glance at her before returning to his project.

“What are these?” The question is directed at Corvo, but the scientist responds instead.

“Sleepdarts, a specialty design that’s only been recently discovered. As the name intales, they put anything living to sleep on contact. Now I’m not going to to bore you with what they’re made of, but I’d advise caution when handling them” Serana nods, holding one up to the light. The serum inside is florescent, and moves rather freely.

“Do they work? Because they sound too good to be true” Corvo nods, packing his bolts away.

“They work, and rather well. Saved me time neutralizing difficult targets” If they have Corvo’s seal of approval, they’ll do well enough. She slots them into the bolt pouch on her side, counting thirty total. That… Couldn’t have been cheap. And Pierro gave them to her for free.

“Corvo, there you are…” The admiral’s voice bellows. He watches her specifically as he approaches, it’s almost amusing how much he doesn’t trust her. But, the feeling is mutual.

“I’m sorry to be a bother, but the servants say they heard something down in the sewers last night - probably a weeper, poor bastard. I’d send one of them to deal with it, but the chances of them returning aren’t very high” He hands a key to Corvo, who takes it rather reluctantly.

“I can do it if you’d like me to, Corvo” The admiral bristles at that, rolling his shoulderblades, looking much like a cat that had been brushed the wrong way. Corvo shakes his head.

“No, I’ll do it. Wait for me?” He’s given a small sympathetic smile and a nod, leaving Serana in front of Pierro’s workshop. She catches the admiral saying something about a ‘Teague Martin’, and how he should be arriving soon.

“Teague Martin, huh? How come I’ve never heard of you” Her whisper is lost to the wind, lips pursed as she leans against the side of the pub.

The sun rises further into the sky as time passess. At one point, the admiral had brushed by her; muttering under his breath. Something about missing the sea. Not surprising. You do something long enough, it’ll become your normal. There’s a clatter of the gate closing to her right, followed by a heavy sigh. The man she’d seen in Holger’s square - the same man Corvo had released - shuffles foreward, rubbing at his neck. He hadn’t seen her, apparently, because when she moves from the wall he jumps a good foot in the air; recoiling backward with an alarmed look. She stares at him, trying her hardest not to laugh as his chest heaves. Eventually, he sputters out a curse - in Morleyan, of all things- swiping a gloved hand through his hair.

“Scáth fucking fuilteach, an bhféadfá a bheith ar bith níos ciúine?” He huffs out a breath, followed by an airy chuckle. Serana grins, stepping foreward from the shadow.

“B'fhéidir gur fearr leat é sin?” Now, he stares at her, confusion clear on his face. He’s rather good looking, with his swept back hair and strong jaw; even more so with the confused look in his eyes. Eventually, he collects himself enough to respond.

“I take it you’re not here to kill me - doubt I’d still be breathing were that the case” Serana steps closer, resting an arm around her midriff. He doesn’t shy away from her, instead, he remains still; watching her with weary eyes. Now, about a foot away from him, she can smell blood. Wherever the wound is, it’s at least three days old, and still bleeding.

“No” She whispers, flicking her gaze over him. There’s no clear indication of where exactly the wound - or wounds, for all she knows - is. The black of his Overseer uniform makes it harder to tell. She’s made aware of how close she’d gotten to the man when his breath catches in his throat. Whispering an apology as she steps back, the male seems to shudder.

“Oh no it’s- it’s fine” He swallows hard, and Serana has to look away. It’s quite for a little while, she doesn’t miss the way his eyes roam her. Or how his tounge darts over his bottom lip before he speaks. How long had this man been in the stocks?

“What is your name?”

“Serana” He mutters it under his breath once, contemplative, before repeating it out loud.

“Serana. Rather beautiful, are you from Morley?” He looks confused when she shakes her head, a giggle escaping her lips.

“No, I’m not. I take it you’re Martin?” His confusion only seems to grow. Serana points to the door behind her.

“The admiral is waiting for you, I shouldn’t hold you up any longer” Martin’s eyes flick from the door of the pub, to her, and back again. Eventually, he moves past her and into the pub. The smell of his blood lingers in the air around her, and she has to force herself away from it. Walking over to the more open part of the yard, she draws her sword. Might as well do something while she waits for Corvo.

“ _Attention Dunwall Citizens. Thaddeus Campbell - formerly High Overseer - is no longer a citizen of Dunwall. He now bears the Heretic’s Brand and by one of of the oldest traditions of the Abbey of the Everyman, it is now a minor criminal offense to offer this man aid or housing. In this time of spiritual crisis, the Overseers have initiated the Feast of Painted Kettles until a new High Overseer is chosen_ ” That would be the third time Serana heard that announcment. With a grunt, she spins, blade swinging around her in a semi-circular arch. Her foot leaves a mark in the dirt, sword held straight and high in the air. Her non-dominate hand releases the hilt, moving to her side as she moves foreward into another attack. The air smells faintly of void energy as she dodges nothing, striking out again. The aroma of blood soon joins it, melding together. She preforms one last arching strike, angled upward, foot sliding to a stop. Serana holds her position for a moment, staring out toward the sea; blade gleaming in the sunlight. Corvo appears in her peripheral vision, the slightest grin on his lips. She straightens, sheathing her sword with a flick of her wrist.

“So how’d it go?” She asks, gaze moving to each individual who’d gathered to watch her practice.

“Well enough. Martin’s arrived. They’ve just finished discussing what they found in the black book” She nods.

“Took them long enough, what did they find out?”

“Emily is being held at the Golden cat”

“She’s where?” Corvo repeats his sentence. Serana throws her head back to the sky, dragging her hands over her face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Six months, right under my bloody-” She clenches her fists, turning away from Corvo. A short, humorless chuckle rises from her throat. The anger melts from her words, turning to a hushed whisper.

“I feel like I’ve failed you both, Corvo. I’m an assassin, it’s my job to-” A hand rests on her shoulder as her voice dies out. She’s a little surprised when Corvo brings her into a tight hug, but it’s welcome nonthless. Outsider knows he probably needs it just as much as her. He lingers awhile before releasing her, hope in his dark eyes.

“I’m going to get her, Serana” With that said, Corvo turns and begins walking to Samuel’s boat; Serana trailing after him.

“I’m coming with you” He stops just a few feet shy of the stairs to the dock, regret clear in his features.

“I… I wish you could, but it’s easier if you stay here” He swallows, sparing her one last glance before stepping toward the boat. Serana wants to argue, but she can’t find it in herself.

“Bring Emily back safe, Corvo” She shouts as Samuel brings the boat to life. Corvo shouts a promise back. Serana doesn’t move untill they’ve dissapeard on the horizon.

Someone steps foreward to stand beside her. Fabric rustles, a lighter clicks, and the smell of tobacco mixes with blood. Martin exhales, slowly, offering her the lit cigar. To his surprise, she takes it. Serana can’t remeber the last time she smoked. It’d been maybe… Two? Three years? She surprised she doesn’t choke when she takes her first drag. She watches the smoke spiral into the air, tapping the ashes off the cigar before taking another. Martin doesn’t try to start a conversation, and Serana is explicitly greatful. After her second, she trys to give it back to him. He chuckles, pulling another out from his cigar case.

“You look like you need it more than me. Besides, I have more” She can’t hid the tiny smile that pulls at the corner of her lips, huming in response. He’s not wrong. They smoke in silence, save for the caws of seagulls as they bounce along the shoreline. Serana drops the remains of the cigar into an ashtray by the docks. Martin has yet to finish his, seemingly very content with her company. The smell of his blood is starting to get to her, and she has yet to even pinpoint where it’s coming from. Eventually, Martin finishes his cigar, smothering it beneth his boot. It’s when he turns away from her that she finds exactly where the blood is coming from. He jumps away from her when she touches his shoulderblade, hissing in pain.

“They-” She blinks, drawing her hand back. Martin looks a little embarrassed at his outburst, his own hand hovering above the spot she’d grazed.

“They actually…” Serana moves foreward, keeping a fair distance from him. It’s not that unbelievable, the cruelty of Overseers often seeps into their own ranks. What they’d done to Martin was but one example. She moves foreward a little more, but dose not reach for him again.

“They whipped you… Didn’t they?” The softness of her own voice surprises her. Martin nods. She knows now, not much use in denying it.

“They could’ve done much worse, I assure you” Serana sighs, beckoning him to follow her into the pub. She’s on the second floor when he appears in the hallway, following her up to the attic.

“Isn’t this Corvo’s room?” Serana shrugs, setting the medkit she’d brought up onto the nightstand.

“Yes, but I sleep here too” He makes a humming noise, watching as she lays a towel over one of the beds.

“Could you take your coat off for me?” Martin blinks at her, so she repeats her question.

“You’re… Sure? It won’t bother you?”

“I’m sure” Serana turns her back to him while she sets out the supplies she needs. Martins hisses of pain aren’t lost on her, and she’s surprised when he asks her for help removing his button-down. What he neglected to mention, was how blood-soaked said button-down was.

It takes patience, but she eventually pulls the blood-soaked cloth from his back. The flesh has been absolutely ravaged, to the point where it almost looks like they sent a wolfhound after him. Serana winces, he’d spent at least three days in the stocks like that.

“Is it really that bad?” Martin asks, attempting to peer over his shoulder. She doesn’t respond. He sighs, lowering himself onto the bed she’d prepared. She works in relative silence from that point on, cleaning dried blood from marred flesh with a damp cloth. By the time she could call the wound relatively clean, the water in the bowl beside her is more blood than anything. Martin begins talking to her simply so he won’t pass out; it’s less talking and more noises when she applies the antibacterial gel. Serana helps him sit up, brushing his hair from his eyes with an apologetic look. There’s something in his eyes she doesn’t quite catch before it flits away, meeting his gaze as she grabs a roll of bandages from the medkit. It suddenly occurs just how absurd it is that this man - this Overseer - let her tend to him without more than an 'are you sure?’. She asks him to pass her the second roll.

“This has to be a violation of at least three strictures” Martin chuckles, watching her move around him to secure the bandages.

“And what would those three be exactly?” She shrugs, placing what remains of the second bandage roll into the medkit. Most of the Overseers she’d dealt with in the past where extremely zealous, and she doubts they would have let her get as close as Martin had without preaching the sixth stricture; potentially deadly wound or not.

“The first, the third. Maybe The seventh” She looks away when he stands, rolling his shoulders with a grunt. The sixth as well, if only on her part. Serana busy herself with packing the remaining items on the bedtable back into the medkit. She’d make it a point to find replacements for what she used next time she went out. Two arms settle on ether side of her, caging her between the wall and him. Martin fixes her with a rather sultry look when she turns, but doesn’t move his eyes from her face. He looks something akin to a wolf; bearing down over it’s prey. Serana, however, is not prey. She straightens, returning his sultry glare.

“Is that a confession, Serana?” He’s looking for signs of weakness, eyes’s flitting to and fro. She doesn’t respond immediately, watching him observe her.

“What if it was?” She tilts her head, breath warm on his neck. Cool hands adjust the collar of his uniform, lingering on his skin for but a moment. Martin swallows, flesh burning where her fingers once brushed. He dosen’t answer, releasing her as he moves away. He stops just shy of the door to the stairs, sparing her one last glance.

“Thank you, Serana” All she can do is nod, and watch him go. Once she’s sure he’s gone, she sighs; running a hand over her neck. It’s almost instinctive, how she pushes her thighs together. Muttering curses as she cleans up the mess of bloody cloth from the ground.

“Teague Martin, You are going to be a problem” Her words are airy, whispered too low for anyone but her to hear. The smell of his blood permeates the attic, far too sweet in her lungs. She dose manage to open a window, leaning on the sil. How much time dose she have before Corvo gets back? Enough, she decides, back pressed against the wall as her fingers slide over her parted thighs.

The world is hazy as her high slips from her fingertips. She’d really just done that. Serana rises on shaky legs; seeking the support of the wall she slid down. She’s a mess, but only for a short while, tossing another ruined cloth onto the growing pile of laundry. It’d been a long time since anyone had stirred that kind of reaction from her. With a sigh, Serana picks up one of few the books laying around the room. Corvo will be awhile yet.

~

She’s one of the first people outside when Samuel’s boat comes into veiw.

She also may, or may not have, vaulted out of the attic window. Hitting the soil with a soft thud and a grunt before taking off toward the dock; nearly smacking directly into Havelock in the process. The admiral shouts something at her, earning a filthy look from all three women beside him. It’s lost to the wind as she comes to a sharp stop. He found her. Corvo found her. Emily jumps up in the boat, waving to her excitedly. She waves back. Nothing around her exisits until the boat has docked, and Emily jumps out to hug her. Serana drops to her hight, accepting her hug with open arms. She’s reluctant to let go, but she dose, smoothing Emily’s hair down with a sigh.

“Serana?”

“Yes, Emily?”

“I missed you” The statment is so genuine it hurts. Corvo offers her a hand, and Emily takes it; curtsying briefly to the admiral and a few others. Including Martin, who bows rather eloquently. Serana rests an arm around her midriff, listening to what Havelock has to say to Corvo. She wants to ask him how it went. If he’d run into any trouble, if he’d killed anyone. But she can’t steal the happiness from him now, he’d gone too long without it. She’ll wait - perhaps until tonight - to ask him anything. A woman, one she hasn’t met, takes Emily to see her room. She can’t know what little Emily went through in last six months personally, but she can imagine it. To watch your own mother die. To be whisked away by someone unknown. To be held captive as a pawn for months, with nothing but hope to keep you sane. To only be able to hope, and hope is a fickle thing. Fragile as glass, like a candle flame flickering in a storm; it takes so little for hope to be broken, lost. She wonders how many times Emily cried for her mother, for Corvo, for her. A breeze sweeps through - cool and riddled with the stench of the sea - the hum of Corvo’s mark low in her bones.

“Can we talk tonight, Corvo?” Her tone is more serious than intended, but it serves it’s purpose.

“Of course” There’s a little concern hidden away in his dark eyes, concealed well from all but her.

“I have to bring Pendleton news. Will you be okay until then?” Serana nods, waving him away. Corvo cares so deeply for the people he loves, and it shows, but only if you’re fortunet. It is perhaps why so many think him a cold, heartless man. She knows better. She’d seen how deeply he loved Jess; all the stolen kisses in dark corners, lingering touches, and late nights spent in Jessamine’s quarters. Everything Jess had confined in her about him. She remembers how happy she’d been when she pulled her from training to tell her she was pregnant. How Corvo beamed when Jess told him.

The memory hurts now, cutting deep into her heart. If she could rench the bloody thing from her chest and live, she would. Instead, Serana settles for the second best solution, hard liquor. The whiskey is warm on her lips as she tips back the glass, downing well over half of what she’d been poured in one gulp. It’s in poor taste, indefinitely, but it’s not like anyone in the pub could care. They have other things to worry about. Except for Havelock, who stares at her in bewilderment as she swallows what remains in the glass.

“What?” She asks, fixing the admiral with an unimpressed glare. If she wants to drink, she’ll bloody well drink, just like the rest of them. Lydia refills the glass for her.

“I’ve never seen a woman drink like that before”

“You’re looking in the wrong places, then” Her second glass of whiskey is savored, the orginal burn now more of a warm glow. Havelock watches her the entier time, up until the point she turns - glass in hand - and downs the good amount of whiskey remaining whilst staring him dead in the eyes. The glass makes a faint ‘tink’ as it’s set onto the bar, blue-grey eyes never moving from the admiral. He’s suddenly much more interested in his whiskey than her. Rightfully damn so. Someone chuckles - and she finds Martin to be the source of the noise - brushing past her with the faintest smirk, he slids into the booth across from Havelock. Serana is tempted to ask Lydia for a third glass.

“Ah, Hello Corvo. I trust you’ve talked with Pendleton?” Corvo dosen’t respond, lips set in a thin line. The admiral takes it as a sign to continue. “We’re sorry we have to send you out again so quickly, but our window of opportunity might be lost by then”

“Campbell’s black book mentioned that the Lord Regent has a mistress, who has been supporting him greatly in court matters and the like - especially financially. To take her out is a top priority in taking the Regent down, but it dosen’t say who she is. Our only lead is Sokolov, whom Burrows commissioned a painting of her from” Martin adds, swirling the drink in his glass.

“Sokolov is currently in his vacation home near Kaldwin’s bridge, we need you to bring him here for questioning - though I doubt he’ll come willingly. But you’ll figure something out, won’t you, Corvo?” Serana flicks her eyes to Corvo, asking him questions she cannot out loud. They cannot seriously be proposing what she thinks they are. Havelock continues.

“You really are something, Corvo. Breaking out from Coldridge, taking out Campbell, and rescuing lady Emily all in two day’s time. You make an old military man proud” He raises his glass breifly in Corvo’s direction before taking a drink.

“Samuel is waiting for you by the boat, meet him there whenever you’re ready” Corvo nods, motioning for Serana to follow him. She’s beside him when they exit the pub, meeting him stride for stride.

“I take it your bringing me with you?” She asks with a smirk. Corvo gives her a half smile, rubbing at his neck.

“Only if you want to”

“I’d be insane to turn you down”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how bloody long this chapter is. Also, I hurt my boy ;-;. I just don’t believe the Overseers wouldn’t have done anything to Martin for trying to usurpe Campbell and the Lord Regent.
> 
> Translations: (I used google translate so I cannot insure that they are 100% correct)
> 
> Italian: abbandonato uno, abandoned one
> 
> tu che esistevi prima di me, you who existed before me
> 
> Irish: Scáth fucking fuilteach, bloody fucking shadow
> 
> an bhféadfá a bheith ar bith níos ciúine?, could you be any quieter? 
> 
> b'fhéidir gur fearr leat é sin?, maybe you prefer that?


	3. To steal a madman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect this chapter to be sort of boring and a lot shorter than the last. It’s mostly filler, but hopefully it’s still readable. I apologize for that.
> 
> I did check around to make sure the signs I had Serana use weren’t used/didn’t mean anything in sign language, but I had nothing come up.

The boat ride to Kaldwin’s Bridge is a quite one.

Serana filddles with her wristbow. Corvo sits next to her, elbows on his knees as he ponders, eyebrows furrowed. His mask lies between them, cold steel glinting in the afternoon sun. She stares at it for a moment, picking it up and turning it over in her hands, inspecting the collage of metal and glass. Strange how similar it looks to a skull. Was that intentional? She places it back beside him as Samuel manuevers the boat toward the shore. They’re here then.

“See all them floodlights on the water? We’ll be spotted for sure. If you can turn ‘em off I’ll be able to get closer to Sokolov’s place. The control panel is on the bridge” Corvo stands, stepping out of the boat to offer Serana a hand. She takes it. “Well, I wish you two luck. I’ll meet you under the arches near Sokolov’s if you manage to turn off those floodlights”

The pair nod - Corvo clicking his mask into place, Serana pulling her bandanna over her nose, hood obscuring all but her eyes - watching as Samuel pulls the boat away.

“To work then?” Serana whispers, tilting her head toward the stairs leading up to the street.

“To work” Corvo confirms, mark glowing under his gloves.

They move as one up to a ledge hidden behind a billboard, observing their surrounding. Serana raises four fingers, pointing in the direction of each guard spotted. There are two near the door they need to get into. She wagers, judging on their movement patterns, they could get by with ease. She turns to Corvo and makes two motions; the first a diagonal slicing motion across her chest, the second, two fingers tapped against her wrist. Two options. Lethality or neutralization. Corvo taps two fingers to his wrist.

Neutralization it is.

With the right timing, they slip by the patrolling guards. This building is one checkpoint on many. Corvo retrieves a whale oil tank from the floor above, and they squeeze into a railcar - which squeales on the tracks as it makes it’s breif journey to the building across. A sudden wave of void energy washes through her, the faintest of whispers echoing in her ears. There’s a shrine nearby. They find it in the house of a man gone mad, standing on the balcony shouting how he will ‘outlast them all’. Highly unlikely. The man slumps to the ground with a thud. Now, closer to the shrine, void energy crashes through her in waves. Corvo picks up the rune, brushing gloved fingertips over the seared bone. The room turns violet, and the Outsider appears. He speaks with Corvo of things to come, how they could pass, how he wonders they’ll turn out. He winks at her before he dissipates back into the void.

Everything up untill the bridge goes smoothly.

Kaldwin’s Bridge is larger than she remebers, and swarming with the City Watch. The Arc Pylons are a new addition, sparking in the air. Technology is great, indeed. Except when it makes things difficult. Corvo motions for her to follow him around it, up to the stairs that lead to the bridge controlls. Serana gose for the floodlights, scaling the side of the bridge up to where the sheilds for the whale oil are found. The whole structure shakes minutes later as the bridge rises. Corvo found the controls then. With the removal of the second tank, the floodlights on the water go out. She meets Corvo on the bridge. They make their way across, avoding more guards and another Arc Pylon on the way down. Serana scales her way up to the rooftops, Corvo appearing beside her in a rush of void energy.

Rooftops have always been Serana’s choice pathway during missions, easier to avoid contraptions and people. They cross over into a diffrent district, Sokolov’s home looming in the orange sky. However, fortress seems to be the better word. In the street below, two people are trapped behind a Wall of Light. Citizens, judging by their clothes. They hold no signs of the plague. Why on earth are they being kept in there? Serana jumps onto a lamp, perching herself above two guards. One more patrolls the road, Corvo watches that one.

“I just find it a little, dunno, weird that Sokolov wants healthy people. He’s working on a cure for the plague - wouldn’t he need plague victims? Or weeper corpses to dissect?” The man next to him clicks his tongue, most likey his squad commander judging by how he responds.

“You don’t get paid to ask questions. Besides, it’s none of our buisness anyway. Sokolov needs test subjects, we bring him test subjects. Simple as that. Now stop your yapping and get back to your rounds” She wants to be mortified, gaze flicking to the people stuck behind the Wall of Light, but little surprises her anymore. Instead, she signals Corvo. A sleepdart whizzes through the air, hitting the patrolling guardsman in the shoulder. The other two don’t even have time to shout before Serana drops from the lamp. Both hit the ground with a thud, Corvo’s mark smoldering beneth his glove. It’d been a while since she choked someone out. Serana nudges the unconscious Watch officer with her boot, looking to the Wall of Light cage.

“Do you have a rewire tool?” Even with his mask on, she can feel the confusion in Corvo’s gaze. He pulls one from his pocket and hands it to her. She removes the whale oil tank from the sheild, setting it onto the ground as she moves over to the unconscious guards. The citizens trapped inside flee, one of them thanking Corvo before dissapearing through the district door. Serana drops the last unconscious guard into the cage, weapons piled behind a stack of crates. She plugs the whale oil tank back in.

Corvo suddenly realizes why she wanted the rewire tool.

He can’t help but chuckle as Serana dusts off her hands, eyes barley visible beneath her hood as she winks at him. She finds another path up to the rooftops. They move foreward toward Sokolov’s miniature fortress. The angle they have is good, and there aren’t near as many guards as there were on the bridge. Serana stops to listen to an Overseer bicker with a Watch officer.

“-Doesn’t the screaming get to you?” The Overseer shrugs.

“The screaming means Sokolov is still working on a cure. That he’s still in the building. Which means I’ve done my job correctly”

“….We. We’ve done our jobs correctly”

“Like you had anything to do with it” The Watch officer fixes the Overseer with a scathing look, turning away with an aggravated gesture. Well, that was certainly interesting. Sokolov must be in his lab then.

Corvo is waiting for her by the door, peeking through the keyhole, the mark glowing faintly through his glove as she approaches. He opens the door, and they slink inside. Crouched low behind planters filled with strange flora. Sokolov, a strange man. Genius and equally mad. She knows well of the things he’s done. He’d asked to paint her once, practically begged, and had been furious with her when she declined.

_“Why do you refuse immortality by my hands?” She’d smirked, turned, walked away._

_“Because I have no need for it”_

He’d never spoken to her again afterward. She stands when Corvo picks up Sokolov’s unconscious body, moving to the desk he’d been standing behind moments ago. She presses play on the audiograph, eyes skimming over doccuments as she listens. This, this is reminiscent of what her job used to be.

“-I now turn my hopes and energies to Formula 25, which, in conjunction with a high heat therapy, which came to me most vividly in a dream last night, has great potential, according to the latest celestial alignment. As for test subject 312, after the characteristic sloughing of the skin, she should be dead by mid-morning tomorrow” Her gaze flicks to the woman in the corner, scratching at her skin and whining in pain. Human test subjects. Of course. Could anything scream 'Sokolov’ louder. She tears some notes from his clipboard, folding them neatly before pocketing them. If she can’t glean any more knowledge about the situation from it, Piero might find them interesting. Corvo watches as she plucks one of the stranger looking flowers from it’s planter. The white bloom glows red in her hands for the slightest moment, a shimmer to it now as Serana tucks it into the woman’s palm. He can’t help but smile. She never was one to stand and watch the world burn.

They find Samuel under the arches, watching the sun set on Dunwall’s grey haze. He looks the slightest bit relieved when Corvo sets Sokolov inside the boat.

“The royal physician himself. You two made a neat job of it” The boatman extinguishs his pipe, ashes swirling in the air.

“Ready to go, then?”

~

The night air is cold. At least twice Samuel had offered his coat to her, and both times she declined. It was a sweet gesture, but it wasn’t necessary. As thin as her armor may look, it is much warmer than expected. Havelock and Martin greet them when they dock, ready to sing praises she doesn’t want to hear.

“I’ll meet you in the attic, Corvo” His brows furrow, but he says nothing as she passes by Havelock, disappearing into the pub. He’s not too impressed with how Martin’s eyes follow her.

She should have stayed with Corvo at the boat, if only to listen and gather information. She should have. Just like she should have stayed at Dunwall Tower. How she should have listened to her instincts even when Jessamine insisted she go on her missions. Maybe then all of this could have been avoided. Maybe is all it ever will be. Gently, she nocks on the door of the tower. A woman’s voice answers.

“It’s open, Cor- Oh. You’re not Corvo” Serana smiles, shaking her head as she shuts the door.

“That I am not” The woman rises from the chair she’d been sitting on, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, you both walk so quietly. You’re Serana, aren’t you?” She nods, offering her hand. The woman seems a little confused at first, but shakes it. “I’m uh… I’m Callista, Callista Curnow. I’ve been meaning to thank you for saving my uncle”

“It was an honor, Callista” It’s odd, to be praised for the work she’s been doing all her life. She is the ghost in the system. Moving unseen and unheard, changing the course of history from behind the veil. Her work is nothing worthy of praise.

“If there’s anything I can do for you, please tell me. I am forever in your debt” Serana gives her a half-smile.

“No need. Your uncle is a good man, that is payment enough” Although Callista dose not respond, there’s a growing respect in her eyes. Callista nods, setting herself back down on the chair beside Emily’s bed. She twists rather violently, muttering beneath her breath. Callista reasures her that she is still there.

“Has Emily been like this all night?”

“Yes, poor thing. I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through” Serana hums, gently resting her hand on Emily’s forehead. Her frantic muttering slows and when Serana draws away, Emily rolls onto her side, resting calmly. Callista stares at her in awe as Serana bids them both goodnight and slips out the door.

After all Emily had been through, night terror’s paled in comparison. But she’s still just a child. If stealing them away granted her better sleep, Serana would do it. They have no effect on her anyway. With a sigh, she props her sword up against her bed. Deft fingers open buckles and clasps, skimming over worn leather. She folds each piece as it is removed, setting them onto a chair. The air is cool on her skin as she stretches, freed from her armor, crimson hair cascading down her back in waves. Corvo’s steps are light as he enters the attic, breath catching in his throat momentarily. Serana turns to him, a good portion of her obscured by the red curtain of her hair.

“Hello Corvo” She chuckles, grabbing the shirt he’d given her off her bed. Corvo blinks, tounge wetting his lower lip.

“When did you get that?” He mutters, moving forward. He stops a little ways away from her, dropping his heavy coat onto another chair. Serana raises an eyebrow, pointing to a long, pink gash across her stomach. Corvo nods, gloves joining his coat.

“Awhile ago. While you were away” His fingertips ghost over the scar, brows creased as he inspects it.

“Blade wound?” She nods. She can tell that Corvo wants answers from intensity in his eyes. She dosen’t just take hits for no reason. “From what?”

“Took it for somebody else” Corvo gives her a half-smile, brushing over the scar one last time. Her answer is enough for him. Serana pulls his oversized shirt over her body.

“Callista thinks your magical, by the way” His tone is nonchalant, but his eyes sparkle with amusement. He sets himself down on his bed, patting the spot next to him.

“Are you saying I’m not?” She hums, sinking into the matress next to him. Corvo shakes his head with a chuckle.

“No, but… Thank you, considering you don’t have to be doing any of this”

“You’re family to me Corvo. You, Emily, and Jess. I’d be damned if I didn’t” She smiles at him softly, gazing towards the floorboards.

“But, we have other things to talk about. Here” She hands Corvo an envelop with a letter inside; the wax seal broken in half. He recognizes the paper, trimed with silver filigree around a blue border, Burrows’ scribbled writing staining the center.

_Serana,_

_It is with a heavy heart I send you this letter, though I do not know when it’ll reach your hands. Empress Jessamine Kaldwin I is dead, by the bloodied hands of her own royal protecter. Young lady Emily was kidnapped. We have yet to find where she was taken. Now, as Lord Regent, I call you back to my side to serve as the new Royal Spymaster. I trust you do not believe the lies passed around on the streets._

_I await your return._

_Lord Regent, Hiram Burrows._

Corvo stares at the letter. Gently, she takes it from him, and tuckes it back into the envelop. His voice is rather quite when he speaks.

“He really tried to get you to work along side him…”

“He tried, and when I never returned to the tower, he sent the very people I served with after me” Her voice is somber. Corvo stares at her, looking as broken as he had when she’d found him. She feels the same way, but this is the life she lives, and she has learned to dull the edge to those emotions. “Burrows told them I was a traitor, and few didn’t believe him. They came after me, one after the other, until the streets ran red”

“You killed them?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Assassins are a force of nature. In doing so was the only way to ensure you and Emily would be safe in the future” Serana sighs, leaning her back against Corvo’s pillow.

“It’s not what I wanted, but they couldn’t be reasoned with. I did my best to make it painless and swift. Burned the bodies as to send them away properly” Corvo is quite, watching her with saddened eyes. He understands.

“Leliana wasn’t among them?”

“No, she wasn’t, that much I’m thankful for. Though I doubt she lives” Her voice dies with the last part. She’d come to terms with the fact Leliana wouldn’t survive this. Corvo offers her a hug, and she accepts it graciously

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your doing” Serana whispers, brushing her fingers through his hair. He lingers for a while, his warmth a comfort, but she supposes hers is too. She pulls away with a small smile, with the letter out of the way, she can ask about what truly happened.

“So, tell me what happened to you?” Corvo hesitates, fingers rubbing over his mark.

“All of it?” She smiles, soft and reassuring.

“Only if you’d like”

Corvo tells her everything. From the assassins in whaler’s masks and the blade that pierced Jessamine’s chest, red coating his hands as she slipped away. The incessant nightmares, the constant screaming and clawing in his own mind over how he couldn’t save her. Couldn’t protect Emily. His time in Coldridge, the torture endured, the lies he was told. How he’d thought there was no hope, that’d he’d die by the headman’s axe. The small blossom of hope that formed in his chest when he’d been slipped the key to his cell, the pure adrenaline in his vains when he’d leaped from the bridge. To his first night at the Hound Pits, when the Outsider pulled him into the void and bestowed upon him his mark. Corvo stares at the floor as he speaks, posture slumped with his hands resting on his knees. He peers up at her occasionally, like he expects her to have disappeared. When he’s finished, he sighs, cradling his head in his hands. There’s not much she can say as she moves beside him, rubbing a hand over his back in small circles. She knows the full story now. Eventually, he sits up, staring at her with glassy eyes.

“What happens when I no longer have the will to fight, Serana?” She rests a hand on his cheek, a warmth to her touch and her voice smooth.

“Then I will take up your blade and finish what you hadn’t the strength to, until you are ready to fight again” It’s a promise, the words spoken from her lips. A pledge to him, like she had made to Jessamine, of her own words. Her own volition. Corvo smiles weakly, whispering his thanks. She smiles back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as she stands, hand cool on his cheek.

They’d talked long after she’d moved back to her bed, lying now under the covers as Corvo snores. The lamplight in the attic is dim, shadows cast softly onto the walls. Serana rolls onto her side, blue-grey eyes watching them flicker and dance as her mind works itself into a state of exhaustion.

She will not be speaking with the void tonight.


End file.
